


Souvenirs

by Anonymous033



Category: Conviction (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9812765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous033/pseuds/Anonymous033
Summary: “Here on vacation?” Hayes asks, and she’s wincing internally at her words when the customer looks over with a dry smile.“Well, this is a popular tourist spot. I’m not here for work.”





	

The jingle of the little bell above the door catches Hayes’ attention, but she’s so used to it by now that she doesn’t look up from the magazine she’s flipping through. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a figure enter the shop and mill by the door, presumably to look through the magnets they have stuck to a rotating stand.

“Quite a collection of souvenirs you have here,” the figure says, and Hayes looks up and— _oh._

The customer looks to be about in their 40s, their dark skin contrasting with the bright blue tank top they have on, and their shoulder-length dark hair looking distinctly windblown. They’re … pretty.

“Uhm,” Hayes says, and then she notices that the customer is looking around the shop. “Oh, right. Siti wanted to attract as many customers as possible.”

“Your boss?”

“Mmhmm. She teaches _batik-_ painting too, if it interests you.” Hayes points to where two tables are neatly lined, newspaper already taped to them in preparation for the next class. “Wax-resist dyeing. You get a piece of fabric, make a pattern on it with wax, and then dye the cloth. The wax resists the dye, so when you remove the wax, the areas underneath are still the original colour of the cloth. S’fun. Siti does it with tourists on these 12-by-12-inch pieces of white cotton. Takes about two hours; you can draw whatever you want.”

The customer nods and wanders farther into the shop, fingers trailing absently over wind chimes.

“Here on vacation?” Hayes asks, and she’s wincing internally at her words when the customer looks over with a dry smile.

“Well, this _is_ a popular tourist spot. I’m not here for work.”

“ _I’m_ here for work,” Hayes points out, and the customer chuckles.

“Point. But nah, I’m here for two weeks while my kid vacations with his dad.”

“You’re not with them?”

“Bobby and I are divorced. My son lives with me, so I figured he’d want some bonding time alone with his dad. _I_ wasn’t planning to come on vacation at all, but my boss thinks I’m a workaholic, so here I am.”

“How’s that going?”

The customer shrugs. “It’s only my third day here. I’ll let you know.”

Hayes grins. “You planning to come back?”

“Depends on what I find here.”

“Say no more.” Hayes holds her arms up. “Have a look around; we sell everything here. T-shirts, postcards, keychains, wood carvings, drinks—except alcohol.”

“I don’t drink, anyway.”

Hayes quirks an eyebrow. “Well, then, you’ll fit right in.”

-.-.-.-.-

Ten minutes later, the customer places a cap and a can of Sprite on the countertop.

Hayes shoots them a mock-unimpressed look. “That’s all?”

“I’m here for twelve more days!” they protest. “I’ll come back for more stuff later.”

Hayes snickers. “I’m considering that a promise to return.”

“I guess I could do that.” The customer sniffs. “Actually, I was wondering if I could take your boss up on those _batik-_ painting classes.”

“Siti only comes in on Mondays and Wednesdays, but you could book an appointment.”

“Is Wednesday morning available?”

Hayes consults the little notebook next to her. “9AM sound good?”

“Sure.”

“How can she address you?”

“Uh, Ms. Bohen. Maxine.”

Hayes marks it down. “Done.” She drops the pen and slyly adds, “Since we’re already doing introductions, I’m Hayes. Hayes Morrison.”

Maxine smirks and shakes Hayes’ hand. “Subtle.”

“The correct response is ‘pleased to meet you.’”

“Sure,” Maxine answers. She grabs the cap and the soda off the counter and departs with a, “See you Wednesday, Morrison.”

“Hayes!” Hayes calls after Maxine’s retreating back, and she hears Maxine laugh through the closing shop door.

-.-.-.-.-

Maxine arrives punctually on Wednesday.

She sits at the table with Siti, whose blouse ­and hijab are both a lovely peach colour, and Hayes watches as Siti talks Maxine through the various steps of making _batik._ It’s a process Hayes has both witnessed and participated in a million times, but she has never found it as fascinating before.

It’s mesmerizing how much concentration Maxine invests into the project.

And then another customer comes into the shop, and Hayes has to stop sneaking glances at Maxine after that.

“All done?” Hayes asks at the end of two hours.

Maxine gently places her _batik_ onto the counter. It’s a building, walls and windows of red and yellow framed by deep green foliage. The wax outlines of the artwork have to remain on the cloth until the dyes have completely set, but it’s already a striking piece.

“Whoa,” Hayes says.

“It’s my workplace,” Maxine confesses sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what else to draw. Turns out I really am a workaholic.”

“You have a steady hand.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that nearby?”

“It’s about an hour away from here. I don’t think it’s really as pretty as I made it look, if that’s why you’re asking.”

Hayes rolls a shoulder. “I’m actually just trying to figure out if the distance makes my interest in you worth keeping.”

Her statement is followed by a long pause.

“You’re forward, aren’t you?” Maxine finally asks.

“I’m _upfront,_ ” Hayes corrects. “Helps people make quick judgements about me.”

“Snap judgements aren’t always accurate, though.”

“No, but the ones who hang around usually find that out.”

Maxine hums thoughtfully at that. “So, does the distance make your interest in me worth keeping?”

“It mostly depends if you _mind_ my interest. If you say ‘yes,’ I’ll back off, no pressure.”

“And if I don’t say ‘yes’?”

“Then—wanna go out with me?”

Maxine smiles a little shyly. “I’m not much of a decide-at-snap-judgement person,” she says. “But I do still have nine days to decide.”

With a wink, she slips a bill for the class under the cash register and exits the shop; Hayes turns back from watching Maxine leave to find Siti looking at her.

“What?” Hayes asks.

Siti just grins and replies, “Sounds like _someone_ expects you to up your game.”

-.-.-.-.-

“Did you know cassowary eggs are green?” Hayes asks two days later when Maxine steps through the door, and the other woman lifts her eyebrows. “Flightless birds native to New Guinea. They’re big, they have claws on their feet, and they lay green eggs.”

“Is that your way of hitting on me?” Maxine asks with a faint smile.

“Is it working?”

“Well, it’s more amusing than anything else, but it _is_ a little endearing.” She approaches the counter and lays out her _batik_ cloth. “The dye set, so I boiled off the wax.”

“It looks fantastic,” Hayes announces. And it does.

“You’re just saying that to get on my good side,” Maxine teases.

“Is it working?” Hayes quips again.

Maxine huffs with amusement. “I’m actually here to look for some souvenirs,” she explains apologetically. “I might live just an hour away, but I will be hearing complaints if I don’t take anything home with me.”

 _Oh._ “Of course,” Hayes says.

Maxine’s gaze softens, and Hayes realizes she hasn’t hidden her disappointment well.

“Maybe to see you, too,” Maxine admits. “I didn’t bring my handiwork over to show the inanimate objects, y’know.”

Hayes bites down on her lip.

“Okay, fair enough,” she decides. “I’ll babysit your masterpiece while you pick out some high-quality souvenirs.”

“That’s the spirit.”

-.-.-.-.-

Two weeks, several visits, and more purchases than necessary later, Maxine drops a final pack of postcards in front of Hayes. “I’m going home this afternoon.”

“I know.” Hayes sighs. “Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Maxine says agreeably. “I sat on the beach a lot; went sightseeing; had a few fine-dining experiences; found a souvenir shop.”

“What was your favourite part?”

“ _Hah,_ you’re fishing for an answer.”

“At least I’m being obvious about it.”

“I thought you were being ‘upfront,’” Maxine says primly, and Hayes laughs despite herself.

“So, have you decided yet?”

“Ring me up those postcards,” Maxine says instead.

It makes Hayes’ mouth fall open dumbly—but then she shuts it and does as Maxine wants.

She has blown her chance somehow, but well.

She did try her best.

She hands Maxine the receipt with a crooked smile, and then watches as Maxine tears open the packet, fishes the topmost card out, and borrows the pen by the cash register.

“Here,” Maxine says when she’s done writing, and Hayes takes the postcard Maxine gives her.

It has Maxine’s name and phone number on it, along with a deadpan, _‘This is one of the better vacations I’ve had.’_

Well.

“It’s really not cute to hand a woman a postcard of the place where she works,” Hayes tells her.

Maxine snorts. “I had to put the number down somewhere. ‘Sides, now you have the answer you wanted—and in writing, too.”

“I do,” Hayes acknowledges.

And then she starts grinning uncontrollably.

-.-.-.-.-

She doesn’t manage to stop grinning until long after Maxine has left.

* * *

Crossposted to: [Tumblr](http://anonymous033.tumblr.com/post/157402203747/souvenirs-a-hayesmaxine-one-shot-au)


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